Trouble On The Way
by DragonyPhoenix
Summary: There's a new demon in town, a werewolf.  Hmmm, who is it that falls for demons?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

When Tonya stepped into the doorway of the office, she saw her aunt picking three stems off of a peppermint plant. Amanda deSanti had a window office, which was unusual for someone in her position, but necessary to grow a variety of plants: the scented ones that she used as anchors for trance work, the aloes and other healing plants to treat wounds, as well as the African violets she'd planted for the sheer joy of their beauty. She could have requisitioned any plant her job required, as most of her colleagues did, but Mandi insisted that her own plants were more attuned to her needs, having grown in her presence.

While Mandi would have appeared poised and unruffled to the untrained eye, Tonya caught the sharp glance that her aunt laid on the leopard print hair-band. As Tonya self-consciously, and unnecessarily, brushed back her hair, gold bangles flashed against her brown skin. For her most recent assignment, pretending to be a high-school senior, Tonya had needed to look a good three or four years younger than she actually was. She'd acquired a more youthful and colorful wardrobe than she was accustomed to wearing and had tucked back her halo of black hair. Her aunt hadn't been commenting on the hairstyle but on the leopard print, which was Tonya's signature. She always worked it into her outfits, even her uniforms, if only in some small way.

Tonya had uncharacteristically not wondered why she'd kept the hair-band on even after the assignment had ended so badly. Oh, it wasn't the worst possible disaster, far from it, but things hadn't gone well. If pressed, she could have given any number of excuses for keeping the hair-band, the easiest being that Helen was used to seeing her in it. Not that it was certain, yet, which team would be sent after Helen.

Her aunt passed one peppermint stem to Tonya. While Mandi dropped peppermint leaves, from the other two stems, into a teapot, Tonya held the stem of peppermint to her face and inhaled it's scent as she recalled specific events from her childhood: one, two, buckle your shoe; the exact flick of the wrist to send the ball bouncing just high enough that she could pick up all the jacks; at Red Rover, the first time she'd broken through the line, how fast she'd had to run, and how she'd thrown herself between Bobby and Paula. The ancestors in her profession, even long before they'd called themselves psychologists, had known that scents, memories, and emotions could be used to anchor certain desired states of mind and, with enough repetition, make them easier to slip back into. Tonya let the peppermint drop into her lap as she felt her mind split into three parts: one to relive her memories, another to observe and analyze, and the final to report on the experiences and thoughts of the first two.

"Tell me about Helen," Mandi directed. Tonya didn't start with impersonal details; there was plenty of documentation to provide that type of information and, besides, that wasn't the type of detail the trance work was there to provide. "The first time I saw Helen was in the hallway of her new school. She's tall enough that she should have stood out above the other students, but she'd hunched herself over, as if her emotional pain had physically hurt her. I made myself highly visible at the center of the crowd and avoided eye contact, so that she would know who I was but didn't expect me to know her. Every time I saw Helen, she was alone." Tonya knew how much her aunt would read into that statement. She, herself, had found it quite telling, almost shocking to tell the truth, given that Helen's bio had stated she'd consistently been part of a crowd almost from birth.

As Tonya heard her aunt swirl the water around in the teapot, she felt herself slipping more deeply into her memories. Helen's ash-blond hair looked scraggly, as if she hadn't brushed it that morning, and her glance darted around the chaos of the hallway while three boys ran past, chasing each other and laughing. Helen pulled away when one of the boys brushed against her, and then she looked down towards the ground, as if she couldn't take in one more thing. Seeing Helen's reaction, Tonya realized that, if she didn't dramatically tone down the brash personality she'd been wearing, she'd scare the girl off.

Two days later, after school, Tonya made the first approach. She'd noticed that Helen took her time leaving the schoolyard, as if reluctant to return to her grandmother's house, and so knew she had time to make a quick run to a nearby 7-11.

"Hi," Tonya said, walking up to Helen and holding out a Slurpee. "Would you like one? They were on sale so I brought two back, but it looks like everybody's split." Tonya looked around as if expecting to find her friends.

Helen clutched her backpack to her chest. "No thanks," she whispered so quietly that Tonya could barely make it out.

"Come on," Tonya said enticingly. Oops, time to back away, Tonya thought, noticing that Helen seemed ready to bolt. "You'd be doing me a favor," she added. "I can't drink this much. Look, you don't even have to hang with me. I'll go sit over there." Tonya looked towards a bench under the shade of a couple of palm trees and held the Slurpee out towards Helen. "Take it," she ordered, knowing that her words would get Helen past the hump. As she felt the drink being taken from her hand, Tonya thanked Helen and walked away, sipping her own drink and not looking back. A few minutes later, Helen joined her on the bench, as Tonya had known she would. Helen didn't want to go home, and Tonya had made herself too much of a distraction to resist.

"I'm Helen," the girl said, looking down at her drink. Tonya reviewed what they'd been able to determine about Helen's situation. The grandmother, originally from a rural area of Poland, had recognized the signs after Helen had been slashed by a werewolf, five months earlier. The woman had been trying to contact the Domuti, to find someone who could control the werewolf, but so far luck hadn't been with her. Tonya thought Helen should be pulled out of the mess and be given proper training, but her assignment was to monitor the situation. Policy was to allow the family to deal with it if they were able to.

Giving her own name in response, Tonya held out her hand. Physical contact led to a tighter bond. With an awkwardness she didn't have to pretend to, Tonya said, "I hear you haven't been here long." Her arm swept towards the school building.

"I bet you heard a lot more than that," Helen replied, with more spirit that Tonya would have given her credit for.

"Hey," Tonya said, reaching out a hand but not quite touching Helen. This was a tricky part; she didn't want Helen to think she'd been singled out deliberately. "I, um, you're not the only one who's lost somebody."

Helen looked up sharply.

"I mean, for me it was my uncle, my favorite uncle, and I know that's not the same as my whole family, but I do understand. Kinda." Even as she was reliving her memories, Tonya could feel Aunt Mandi take her hand. That uncle had been the man Mandi had married.

Apparently it had been the right thing to say. Words rushed out of Helen like water from a burst dam. "Everyone is acting like it can't happen to them, but I can tell from the way they act around me that they know it can. They back away, like my bad luck'll rub off on them or something, but it's not luck, it just– it just happened." When Tonya didn't speak, Helen added. "And it's not getting better. All the time I feel like I'm ready to burst out screaming." Helen was almost panting when she finished. She glared at Tonya defiantly.

"It does get better," Tonya said, taking Helen's hand. "I promise. It never goes away, not entirely, but there will be– it'll be like a veil has dropped down between you and the memories. Some days you'll hardly notice it's there, but other days, well, the veil will rip itself open, and you'll feel like you're drowning, but only for a little while. Then it'll draw over the memories again, and you'll be, not quite OK, but you'll be able to live with it."

"But it's taking so long, longer than it should."

"There is no should or shouldn't," Tonya said with all the confidence of her training. "It's different for everybody." And most people aren't turned into a werewolf on the day their family is killed by one. God, I can't even begin to imagine the guilt of that. I'm sure your grandmother is taking the worst possible tack, probably telling you it's a curse, and that you need to keep your evil self away from normal God-fearing folk. All the old-country nonsense.

"Hey Tonya," came a shout from a couple of girls standing by the school doors. Damn, Tonya thought, watching Helen pull back into herself.

Helen stood, almost dropping her Slurpee in her haste. "I've gotta go." Helen dashed along the side of the building and turned the corner at the edge of the school, disappearing from Tonya's sight.

Still fully in trance, after Tonya had finished describing the scene, she waited for instructions from her aunt. "Tell me about the tracer," Mandi's voice directed.

"Because the situation was unstable, Sergeant Ramon wanted a GPS tracer on Helen," Tonya said.

"That showed foresight," Mandi said.

"Even when we were kids, she believed in being prepared," Tonya replied.

"How was it hidden?" Mandi asked, even though she must have read the details in the reports.

"Wayne found a leopard-print snake, a small stuffed animal that was also a keychain. Helen and I had formed a close bond by then, and she was unlikely to throw away any gift I'd given her," Tonya replied.

"And the leopard-print would remind her of you, strengthening that trust," Mandi said.

"Yes."

"Tell me," Mandi said.

"I was brushing her hair. It was always so scraggly, as if she didn't take care of it, but the blond highlights shone beautifully once it was brushed out. She was teasing me about it, saying it was fine, but when I showed her in the mirror, she gasped and brushed her hand through it, as if she'd forgotten how good her hair could look. She kept it combed after that day and started coming out of her shell, even around other kids, by talking up more and hanging in the hallways between classes."

"You were telling me about the tracer."

"I gave it to her after we'd finished with her hair. She was feeling pretty, probably for the first time in seven months, and I judged she was likely to accept the gift. I handed her the keychain," Tonya said, sinking further into her memories.

"I saw this in the store," Tonya told Helen, her gestures filling the space around her, "and I couldn't resist, but when I got it home, I found I just couldn't replace Leo." Tonya pulled out her Leonardo diCaprio keychain and gave the picture a kiss.

Helen snickered and shook her head. "I can't believe you've got it that bad for diCaprio."

"You're just jealous because I claimed him first."

"Yeah right," Helen said, wrapping the coils of the snake around her finger. "What is this anyway, some kind of boa constrictor?"

"He'd better not be," Tonya said as she grabbed the stuffed snake out of Helen's hand. "Nah, he's just a harmless garter snake."

"With leopard fur," Helen said, smirking as Tonya tossed her the snake.

"So he's stylish."

Mandi interrupted Tonya's description of the scene. "The GPS tracer was hidden in the snake you gave Helen. How does that make you feel?"

In her tranced state, Tonya couldn't have lied, not that she would have to her aunt. "Guilty, as if I'd betrayed her." Tonya's analytical side added, "But I do understand that everything I've done is meant to help her. I just wish we could have been more open in our approach."

"Initial contact with new werewolves is never easy," Mandi told her. "Why don't you come back and we'll have tea." As Tonya heard her aunt pour the peppermint tea, her three minds started merging into a single consciousness.

Amanda deSanti had one more question. "Who should be sent after Helen?"

"My team," Tonya said as she opened her eyes. In response to her aunt's raised eyebrow, Tonya added, "We've formed a bond" She's on the run. She'll be more likely to trust a friend."

"And?"

Tonya shrugged. "I'll look after her best interests."

"Other teams wouldn't?"

"There's still prejudice against demons in the ranks," Tonya countered.

"Are you suggesting we'd send a prejudiced team after her?" Mandi asked, with a snap in her voice.

After a long silence, Tonya answered. "I'm her friend." It was an unprofessional response, but it was also the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

As Xander wandered past the playground, his face lit up with a nostalgic smile; a couple of kids were begging their parents for just one more run down the slide. His Mom had never fallen for it either, which he'd resented at the time, but now that he knew more about Sunnydale, he figured getting the kids home before sunset was an essential parenting skill. And hey, who knew that Mom even had parenting skills?

He didn't notice the girl until he'd walked past the monkey-bars and could see the swings clearly. Even hunched over on the swing like that, he could tell she was tall, taller than he was anyway, but she was sort of pretty and looked like she could use a friend. Couldn't hurt to go over and talk.

Opening line, opening line, ran through his mind as he approached the swing set. Ah, he thought, as he scrounged through his pockets. That'll do. "Lollipop?" he asked as he sat down on the swing next to hers and held out an orange sucker. She shook her head no, and then looked back down towards the ground. "OK," he said, "but you're missing out on an excellent sugar buzz here."

Watching her out of the corner of his eye as he unwrapped the lollipop, his mind raced for something to say. "So, if Sunnydale were a song, what song would it be?" What? I came up with that? No wonder Cordy dumped me, he thought with a twinge. Well, that and the whole kissing Willow and almost getting Cordy killed thing.

"Bad Moon Rising," she whispered.

Oh my God, it's working. What do I say? "Hmm." His voice sounded overly loud in his ears. "Trouble on the way. Earthquakes and lightening. Don't go out tonight. Hey, you're not wrong there, but I don't think Mrs. Miller will go for it. I'm supposed to answer the question for a school report; did I mention it's a school thing? Creative something or other. I was thinking of David Lee Roth's 'I Wish They All Could Be California Girls.'" Seemed to be going OK so far. At least she hadn't rushed off. "Are you a California girl?"

She smiled at him when she said, "I'm from Nevada."

"Oh," he said, not sure how to take that, but she wasn't running away or turning into a man-eating bug woman, so that had to be of the good. "That's OK. I doubt 'California Girls' would have gone over anyway." Pointing up towards the top of the swing set, he added, "You know, when I was a kid I used to try and swing right over that bar. I never made it myself, but there was a kid, Dave, who I heard almost did. He slipped off the swing and flew so high up, he never came back down." Xander paused as he thought about a tiny coffin. Dave hadn't vanished into some fairy-tale sky castle; he'd stayed out too late. "His family moved away," he added.

"Oh," he heard. Her voice sounded concerned.

Wrong mood, wrong mood, his mind screamed in warning. Swapping the lollipop to his left hand, he held out his right and said, "Xander."

"Xander?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"That's my name; don't wear it out. Well, you can wear it out, if you want to, since you look so pretty saying it, and I can't believe that just came out of my mouth. I really was trying for suave and debonair, sort of a James Bond thing." Xander thought of himself as 007, jumping from car to car of a moving train, falling off and rolling over the gravel, and then coming to a stop in the mud. "I came off as more of an idiot babbler, didn't I? It's OK, you can admit it."

She giggled and took his hand. "Helen."

And hey, that didn't mess up too badly. "I haven't seen you around. Visiting?"

"I just moved here," Helen said.

"So you'll be transferring to Sunnydale High. I could show you around, point out the hot spots, if you'd like." Feeling bashful, he ducked his head and then looked up hopefully.

"I'm working. I just got a job at the antique shop, Time In Thy Flight."

"Oh, Giles has found some great demonic– I mean demonstrations. Giles has given demonstrations at the shop– because he's old– and British. And I guess they weren't all that great, come to think of it." Xander petered off uncertainly thinking, Way to make her think you're nuts. Bringing up demons. What were you thinking? What's she thinking? Working? So she's not a high-school student. She looks like a high-school student. Do Not Tell Her That. "So, that means you're older than me. I must look like some joke of a kid brother to you."

"Nah, I'm not as old as– I mean, it's not like–," she stopped as if she didn't know what to say, but Xander didn't mind. He was used to feeling that way himself.

He flashed her a smile and asked, "Would you like to get ice cream or something?"

"Ice cream sounds nice."

"Would you do it, run-away I mean, if the problem were big enough?" Helen had wanted to call back the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She'd felt so relaxed, laughing and joking with Xander, that she'd dropped her guard. After he'd told her about his friend, Buffy, who'd run away, she'd been tempted to tell him why she was on her own, but had managed to change it to a question.

"Never, never run-away," Xander replied in an unexpectedly earnest tone of voice. "Demons will grab you from behind every time. Always face your monsters."

"And what if _you_ are the monster? How do you face yourself?" She panicked after she'd blurted out the question. What was wrong with her, giving herself away like that.

"Get a mirror," he quipped. "Unless you're a vampire, because that whole no reflection bit? Totally true." She let out a high-pitched, nervous giggle, but he didn't seem to notice anything odd about it. The talk about monsters had reminded her that she had less than a week to figure out a way to restrain the wolf. Making friends was just an illusion and a dangerous one at that. Reality was fangs and claws. Reality didn't mix well with friends, or family.

Helen gave an excuse, saying she had to work the next day, but Xander insisted on escorting her home. You're just going to get hurt if you hang with me, she thought. You make me forget, and that's bad. "Here it is," she said as they rounded the corner of the apartment building.

"I'll, um, see you around," he said.

"Yeah," she replied, trying to sound casual. Growing up, she'd always been surrounded by friends and could hardly stand to be alone anymore, so it came out sounding like she did want to see him again, which was true, even though she knew she should leave him alone.

"Right," he said with a smile before walking off into the night.

As Helen walked up the stairs, the lifeless beige walls and carpet flashed to gray. She'd been getting random flashes like that ever since the full-moon memories had started coming back. It only served to highlight how little time she had.

Helen pulled out her keychain, the leopard-print snake that reminded her of her friend. With a smile that was half grimace,she looped the coils around her fingers. Tonya, like Xander, had made her think she could have friends during one of the worst times of her life. Huh, and look how that had turned out.

As Helen reached towards the door, her roommate, Kris bounded out of the apartment. Helen had to leap back to avoid being run over. After blinking a few times, Helen still couldn't adjust to how Kris' magenta hair clashed with the primary colors of her tie-dyed top. At 5'2", Kris was much shorter than Helen but, despite her slightly chubby frame, was a whirlwind of energy.

"Hey, I'm heading to Arlo's. He's got some weed in." Given the hippie outfit Kris had on, Helen could have guessed where she was going. Kris dressed to suit the moment – generally based on whomever she was hanging out with – although sometimes her outfit seemed to cater to some unknown whim. Leaning back and folding her arms to her chest, Kris added, "I guess you're still too much of a goody-two-shoes to join us."

"Sorry," Helen said. She wasn't willing to do anything that would take away that much of her control over herself.

"Bye, then." Kris bounced away having forgotten, as far as Helen could tell, that she'd been annoyed just a moment before.

As she stepped into the apartment, Helen flipped on the ceiling light, which was covered and muted by a batik depicting three women. Kris and some artsy friends of hers had put it up just a few days before, while the artist had gone on and on about how each one of the three represented a different approach to divinity. To the left, was a grimacing face, dark blue and terrible, whose pointed teeth dripped blood onto a skull necklace. At the right, the face, as round as the moon, was serene and pale, seemingly untouched by worldly concerns and framed by a cascade of golden curls. In the center, the head and torso of a saintly woman filled with the ecstasy of God, seemed to shift in the light.

Because the more muted light better suited Helen's mood, she didn't bother to turn on a lamp. As she flopped down onto one of the mismatched chairs, Helen brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Oh God, she panicked. The full moon. What am I gonna do?

The antique shop seemed almost organized, as if it had some sort of order to it, just out of the reach of the eyes. It was as if the pattern were so big, the mind knew it was there but couldn't quite take it in. At the back of the store, a bald man, looking formal in a tan turtleneck and dark brown pants, dialed a phone while he kept an eye on Helen.

She'd picked up an Orb of Thessela and was muttering about paperweights. That was a common enough mistake and it wasn't as if there were a high demand for the Orbs, but perhaps he shouldn't have had her inventory the new shipment. She wouldn't recognize any of the magical objects, but it did keep her occupied while he tried Oz again.

Finally, someone picked up on the other end. "Hello? I'd like to speak to Oz."

Oh great, the same idiot as before, Nash thought. "I've been trying to reach him for two days now. Don't you have any idea when he'll be back?" It had to be soon with the full moon fast approaching, but Nash needed him here now. Even in human form, Helen would recognize Oz as another werewolf. Centuries of tradition told Nash that the initial revelation would be easier if he had Oz by his side.

"You _think_?" he shouted before slamming the phone down.

"Was it something important?" Helen asked, looking fairly spooked.

Damn, he hadn't meant to frighten the girl. Perhaps a retreat would be in order. "Just something I wanted done sooner rather than later, but it can wait, a while longer at least." As the shop door opened, Nash took advantage of the sound to break away. "Why don't you see who that is. I'll be out shortly"

Nash stepped into the other room, but stayed by the doorway to take a longer look at Helen. The girl seemed nervous, but if she knew she was a werewolf, the approaching full moon would be weighing heavily on her mind. If only he knew what was going through her head, he could decide how to proceed.

Nash winced as the orb flew out of Helen's hand, but it was caught, before it could smash into the ground by that young man who hung out with Rupert and the Slayer. What was his name again? Ah, yes, Xander Harris. "You should be careful with these things," Harris said as he handed the orb back to Helen. "You never know whose soul could be in one."

Interesting. It seemed that the boy had managed picked up some knowledge, but what was he doing here? He did know Oz. Perhaps he had something– Was he flirting with Helen? Nash scrutinized the couple.

"A wand of basketball?" Xander asked, picking up a green crystal next to the packing crate and scattering Styrofoam peanuts everywhere. Ah, there was the lad as he'd come to expect him.

Helen giggled. Damn, that wasn't good. While their charges weren't exactly forbidden to mate, it was discouraged by the Order. Not that he'd managed to keep Oz from taking up with that witch-in-training.

"It's called a wand of B'turu," Helen replied, reading it off the inventory sheet.

"Whatever," Xander said. "Word of advice. If it ever starts glowing– run." And again the boy comes through with arcane knowledge. I really do need to keep a closer eye on Giles' charges, Nash thought.

"You told me to never run away from anything," Helen said.

"Fine. Smash it to the ground first and then run, but that's not why I'm here. We're hanging out at the Bronze Thursday night, Willow, Buffy, and me, and I was kinda hoping you'd join us. I mean, I know you haven't met many people yet, and this is a perfect opportunity to get to know the gang."

Time to nip this in the bud, Nash thought. "Mr. Harris." Xander turned and gulped. "Already causing trouble I see. Advising my new clerk to destroy the merchandise."

"Mr. Nash," Xander stuttered.

"Is there some reason you're here, Mr. Harris?"

"I, um, no?"

Nash gave the door a significant glance.

"And I'll just be going then," Xander added. As he backed towards the door, almost knocking over a table of antiques, he asked Helen, "See you there?"

"I, uhh, maybe?" Helen said, sounding reluctant. Nash eyed Harris with pleasure as the boy took in the rejection. Good, getting her settled under his wing would be difficult enough. No need to add the heady mess of teenage lust into the mix.

Helen reached a hand out towards Xander but, when Nash gave her a glare, she pulled her hand back as if burned and turned her attention to the contents of the shipping crate.

Mr. Nash had told Helen that Wednesdays and Thursdays were the slowest days in the shop, and that she could have them off. She actually preferred working, because the job kept her busy enough that she didn't think about her problems It wasn't that many days to the full moon and she still had no idea where she could restrain herself. There was a solid looking door in the basement of Mr. Nash's shop. Helen wasn't sure where he kept the key, though, or what excuse she could use if he realized she'd locked herself in.

And then there was Xander, she thought as she found herself outside the high school. She knew she should keep away from him. No need to drag someone down into her mess, but she couldn't help thinking about him. Could he really be as nice as he seemed? Her own friends had seemed just as nice until after her family, well, until after the deaths. They'd been uncomfortable with her, when her life was falling apart and she'd needed them the most. Grandma had warned her people wouldn't understand.

Helen, half-hidden by a tree across the street from the school, tried to tell herself to leave Xander alone, but her thoughts evaporated as he came down the front steps. She watched him chat with two girls, and he was as friendly and open as he'd been with her.

When Xander skateboarded off, Helen raced after him. Even running, she managed to stay well out of sight. Since she'd started to remember what happened during the full moon, she'd become an excellent stalker, able to hide in almost plain sight. Not that she needed those skills to follow Xander. He never even glanced back once.

She slipped into the shadows of a neighbor's yard as Xander approached a slightly seedy house. Helen noticed that he squared his shoulders before going in. Wondering if it was his house or not, she gave it ten minutes before hiding herself close enough that she could listen in. It was quiet mostly until the father came home and made a row about dinner not being ready. Xander didn't speak much, but when he did he sounded very reserved. Not close to his family, she guessed, having already seen how open he was with his friends. That might be for the best, she thought, not allowing herself to realize what she meant by that.

Helen headed home shortly before dusk, having already realized that there was something creepy about Sunnydale after dark.

The demon Raphael loathed the suburbs. Could there be anything more horrifying than the banal box-house homes that people not only chose to live in, but embraced! They left no room for individuality, uniqueness, or even personal taste. Suffice it to say that having his quarry park herself outside of some rat-trap of a suburbanites' wet dream wasn't his idea of a worthwhile hunt.

It was interesting, though, that she was on a hunt herself. She'd chased a young man all the way from the local high school and had then parked herself outside his house. This suggested they'd been wrong about her. There were two main strains of werewolves: the tandru and the lochen. He'd been told that Helen was a tandru, or a lone wolf, but that's not what her behavior was saying. As a lochen, she'd be driven to either find or create a pack, and Rafe would eat his hat if she hadn't picked that young man as a potential pack member. There were advantages to both types, but Rafe preferred the lochen. Alone, they tended to be off balance and unpredictable but, offer them a strong team, and they were loyal as all hell.

As Helen snuck over to the sidewalk, Rafe gave out a sigh. She wasn't even going to run. He thought about letting out a bit of a howl, just to set her off, but he'd been ordered to follow and not make contact. No need to get his head chewed off for nothing. He'd get to play with her soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Kris had described the Bronze as "lame beyond words" when Helen had asked her about it, but Helen had taken that to mean it was someplace she'd feel comfortable. It was, mostly. Certainly the feeling in the pit of her stomach couldn't be attributed to the environment. The kids seemed a lot like her friends from home. She didn't pay much attention to the band, but the music was about what she'd expected. The problem was Xander. She peered over at him through the spiral staircase. He was sitting with the two girls she'd seem him with at the school. The blond had her back towards Helen but the red-head looked nice, like she'd be a good friend.

Grams had told Helen that a werewolf couldn't have friends. It would be too hard to hide what she was, but Helen wasn't used to being alone. She'd grown up in a neighborhood full of kids, who all watched out for each other. Even as a toddler, her parents hadn't worried when she stepped out of the door, because they knew she'd have a crowd of older kids keeping an eye on her. What she'd been told was colliding with her basic nature.

Her feelings of loneliness had almost convinced her to join Xander and his friends at the table, when someone spoke from just behind her. "Well, well." She whipped around. The guy was just inches away from her, blocking her way. While his large build should have been intimidating, what really frightened her was that he wasn't human. She didn't know how she could tell, but she was sure.

"Just look at you," he added. "You know, I had been thinking snack, but now I think it would be quite the, let's say, interesting challenge to meet you at the next full moon."

He knows. Helen panicked. He's not human, and he knows. "What are you?"

Smiling, he held out a hand. With that sandy hair and laid-back grin, he actually looked like a regular guy. Helen tried to shrink back into the staircase. You don't shake hands with dinner, she was thinking, but she couldn't bring herself to touch him. He pulled his hand back, but kept the grin, although it started to seem a little forced. "Raphael, but you can call me Rafe," he answered, as if she'd asked who instead of what.

Another man, as large as Rafe but with dark hair, laid a hand on Rafe's shoulder. Another non-human, Helen thought as she started trembling. When he spoke, his words didn't make sense to Helen. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" He seemed to be threatening Rafe, but why would two monsters be fighting? But then, what did she know? Maybe monsters fought all the time.

Rafe frowned at the man and then relaxed into an easy grin. As Rafe shifted his position, Helen's werewolf senses told her that he'd moved into a defensive position. "We were just talking, weren't we Helen?"

It knows my name. How does it know my name?

Rafe glanced over at her, frowned again, and stepped back, giving Helen and the stranger a bit of space. "Why don't we take this outside?" the other guy said.

"Oooh, Grandma," Rafe replied, "what pointy teeth you have." Helen couldn't even begin to make sense of that comment but it must have meant something because the other guy glared.

A blond woman, also not human, stepped up next to the dark man. She glanced at Helen before turning to Rafe. "Didn't someone mention taking this outside? Because I'd love to make sure my fist was the last thing you saw."

Rafe put his hands up. "Hey, I've got no quarrel with the Slayer. Guess the rumors are true, Angel." Helen looked at the dark-haired guy again. He's an angel? Are they even real? Monsters are.

"Leave now," the blond ordered.

Rafe laughed. "Some other time then," he said before heading for the door.

The woman started to follow, saying, "I'll take care of it," but then the angel pulled her aside and whispered something that Helen couldn't catch. "You sure?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Fine. I'll just make sure he's really leaving," the blond said, before following Rafe out.

"Do you need someone to walk you home?" the angel asked Helen.

"Are you really an angel," she asked, feeling like an idiot the moment the words were out of her mouth.

"Um, what?"

"That man, Rafe, he called you an angel."

"Oh, um, no." He looked uncomfortable. "Angel is my name."

So he was a monster. "I'm meeting friends. Right over there. They're waiting for me. They'll probably come looking for me any second now."

He stepped back and gestured for her to leave. Helen was afraid that meant he planned to follow, but instead he vanished into the shadows. Desperate for the safety of company, Helen bolted to Xander's table.

"Helen." Xander bounced out of his chair to pull one out for Helen to sit on. "Have a seat. This is Willow. Willow, Helen."

"I gathered that," Willow said with a smile. "Nice to meet you," she added as Helen sat down.

"Helen helped me pick my song," he said.

"Xander," Willow replied. "You picked _Bridge Over Troubled Waters_."

"Hey, Johnny Cash is god, and it's not like your song was so great."

Looking over from their bickering, Willow frowned. "Are you OK?" she asked Helen. "You look a bit shaken up."

"No, I'm fine," Helen said, her eyes wide. She forced herself to relax and added, "I just met some, well, strange people back there."

"Strange how?" Willow asked, taking Helen's words unexpectedly seriously.

"I'm not sure I can describe it. They were just... different. That Angel guy drove Rafe away, and then..."

"Angel," Xander interrupted, his voice sounding flat. "Of course you met Angel, all tall, dark, and handsome."

"And creepy," Helen said.

"Creepy? Really?" Xander asked with a hopeful smile.

"Angel drove somebody away?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, him and some..."

"Hey, guys, what's up?" It was the blond girl, the one who wasn't human.

"Buffy," Willow said. "Everything OK?"

"I should go," Helen said, jumping up from her chair.

"Helen, wait," Xander shouted.

"Hey, it's OK," Buffy added. "Tall, blond, and disturbing," she said with a frown, "is definitely gone."

"No," Helen added, inching away, "I have to be at work early."

Xander moved over until he was next to Helen, and she took his arm, feeling safer with him by her side. "I know you met a couple of creepy guys–" he started.

"A couple?" Buffy asked.

Willow rolled her eyes. "He's including Angel."

"Xander! Angel is not creepy."

"Hey, don't blame me. He's the one who wigged out Helen," Xander said.

"Angel's nice," Willow babbled. "Well, except for that one time after he and Buffy–" She was interrupted by a loud cough from Buffy. "But that's never going to happen again, so you don't have to worry about him. He's one of the good guys now. Really."

"Thanks for the glowing endorsement, Willow."

"I have to go," Helen said, before bolting for the door. The crowd slowed her down enough that Xander caught up with her just as she was leaving the building.

"Angel really is OK," he said. "You shouldn't let him wig you out, and what am I saying? You don't like Angel, no skin off my nose."

"Have you known him and Buffy long?" she said, unsure how to ask him if he knew they were monsters.

"You've already picked up that they're a couple, huh? Buffy came here about three years ago. Come to think of it, that's about when Angel showed up as well."

"Are you close to her? Good friends?" Helen asked.

"Good friends. Yep, that about sums it up," he said. His tone of voice hinted as some past distress. Helen took his hand, telling herself that she was just checking if he were a monster or not.

Xander glanced up with something of a shocked look, which then relaxed into a grin as he gave her hand a squeeze. "I, uh," he started to say, but then he started swinging his hand so that, as they walked down the street together, their hands were swinging between them.

They walked along in comfortable silence until Xander suddenly shouted out, "Werewolf!"

Helen jerked her hand out of Xander's. "Werewolf?"

"No, no, it's OK," he replied. Looking concerned that he'd upset her, he pointed towards a store window where _The Wolf Man_ was playing on about a half-dozen tv sets. "There wolf. There caffeinated goodness," he finished, gesturing towards the local coffee shop.

"Why are you talking that way?" Helen asked, still not sure why he'd brought up werewolves.

"I thought you wanted to quote _Young Frankenstein_," he said.

Oh, she thought. Getting into the joke, she added, "No, I don't want to."

"Suit yourself," Xander shrugged but with a smile on his lips. "I'm easy."

As they walked the last block back to Helen's apartment, she, with a shrug of an apology for jerking her hand away earlier, took his hand again. At the door, Helen brushed a hand through her hair, uncertain what to do. She could invite him in, but they'd just met, and it felt a little awkward. Besides, if Kris were home, who knew what she'd be up to.

"So," Xander said, startling her out of her thoughts. "Maybe we could do something Saturday?" rushed out of his mouth so quickly that Helen had to think it through twice before she understood his words. When she didn't answer right away, he gave her an uncertain look. "That is, if you'd like to," he added.

"I," Helen stammered. "All those people were a bit much," she answered truthfully.

"Well, how about a movie? Just you and me. _Dogma_'s playing down the street. Come on," he encouraged. "Alanis Morissette as God? George Carlin as the Pope? Well, not quite the Pope, but almost."

Helen smiled at his antics and figured she could handle a date if it was just the two of them. "OK, I'll see you Saturday."


	4. Chapter 4

_Roach-Trap Hotel_, Rafe thought as he walked across the parking lot. The place was a flea bag in the bad part of town, but that meant people didn't ask too many, or any, questions. Always a plus when out on assignment. After a quick knock, the door opened, and Rafe was relieved to see only Makoto and Sergeant Ramon. He'd been thinking on his walk back about how his snack joke had fallen flat and frightened the target. Tonya was not only the hardest of them to deceive, she wanted to make contact herself and so had the greatest incentive to stick him back in the van.

Start by throwing in a grenade to distract, he thought as he said, "The vampire, Angel, is working with the Slayer."

"You're sure?" Sergeant Ramon asked.

"Met him tonight. He didn't deny the name when I tagged him," Rafe replied. As he plopped down into a chair, he added, "They didn't let me make contact."

"What interest do they have in the werewolf?" Makoto asked.

"I don't know that they do. Felt more like they'd pegged me as a demon." He thought a minute and then added, "She didn't know them."

"Right," Sergeant Ramon said. "How about you get up early enough tomorrow that you can see where she's spending her days? Wayne hasn't found any records on her so, if she has found a job, she's getting paid off the books."

"Makes sense," Rafe replied. "It's what I'd do in her situation."

"Except she doesn't have your training," Sergeant Ramon replied.

"She's got to be concerned," Makoto added. "The full moon is less than a week away."

"How's she handling it?" Rafe asked.

"According to Tonya, she's probably aware of the problem, but largely in denial about it," Makoto said.

"When Helen's family died, her grandmother kept her caged to keep the wolf under control. Her subconscious is probably hoping someone else will step in and take control again," Makoto added, most likely summing up what Tonya had told him.

"So, we rush in like heroes and save the day," Rafe summed up.

"With any luck," Sergeant Ramon replied. "Tonya thinks she's started to developed some of her werewolf senses. She'd be an excellent asset if we can get her to trust us."

"We get anything new?" Rafe asked, to get off of a topic that could swing back to how he'd messed up the initial contact.

"From the apartment number you gave him, Wayne turned up a roommate, a Kristine Sachs. He's got a file for you to review."

"Yes, ma'am," Rafe said. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.


	5. Chapter 5

Helen's bedroom was sparse: a lamp and an old futon mattress that some friend of Kris's had dug up. The walls and carpet were that dull off-white tone endemic to apartments, giving the room an almost generic look, as if it could belong to anyone and be almost anywhere.

Climbing onto the futon, Helen wrapped one of Kris's spare blankets around herself. _Not human, not human, not human_, ran through the back of her mind as she recalled Rafe, Angel, and Buffy. _Monsters? Maybe. Probably. At least Xander isn't a monster. Not yet_, whispered through her thoughts. "No," she said back. "Never. I won't hurt him." _Then you'll be alone forever._

Sitting up, Helen turned on the lamp. Rummaging around in her backpack, she found a bottle of pills. Only two left. When she'd been living with her grandmother, the doctor had said they'd help her sleep. Helen took one, swallowing it down without water. Just like every time she dosed herself with the pills, Helen felt like she'd never sleep, and then she was out.

Opening her eyes to the scent of popcorn, Helen took in the light green walls of her childhood bedroom and wished she hadn't taken the pill. _No, not this_, she thought, already knowing there was nothing she could do to change any of it.

"Helen, Tracey, it's starting," Mom yelled from the living room over the intro to _America's Funniest Home Videos_. Helen's body, back in Sunnydale, tossed on the futon as her mind relived the worst night of her life.

"I'll be out in a minute," came her sister's voice from the bathroom.

"Run. Get out of here. It's coming to kill you", Helen tried to shout, but all that came out was the same old complaint. "Why can't I watch over at Emma's?"

"Because you're grounded," Mom replied, holding out the bowl of popcorn as an offering. As her heart sank at the sight of her family and the last bit of normal life she'd had with them, Helen watched herself grumpily take a handful of popcorn. When some of the kernels fell on the floor, she shrugged an apology, picked them up, and carried them into the kitchen to toss them out.

"Ooh, popcorn," Tracey said, bouncing onto the couch.

Helen's feet carried her to the bathroom, but she turned back, as she always did in the nightmare, at the sound of wood splintering. It was the wolf. Then Helen could scream, but she still couldn't change anything. Dad grabbed the bat, the one Tracey had left out after practice, and ran straight at the wolf. Mom herded them into the back bedroom, closing the door behind, and almost threw them out the window. "Run," she told them, but Helen stopped to wait for her. _My fault_, Helen's thoughts cried. _If we'd run like Mom had said, maybe Tracey would still be alive._ They heard more splintering, and then Mom, with one leg halfway out the window, was dragged back into the bedroom.

"Mooooom," Tracey screamed. The wolf lunged up into the window. Grabbing Tracey's hand, Helen started running, but a slash of claws took her down. She closed her eyes in pain, still trying to crawl away from death. Then she heard the sound of gunshots.

Helen had blacked out then, when it had happened, but her nightmare filled in the details. She saw the wolf, wounded by bullets, dragging her sister off into the desert as it fled. Emma's father carried Helen back to his home so that she wouldn't wake with death and blood all around her. The wolf dragged Tracey into a cranny of a cave, her screams coming to an abrupt halt as it went for her throat. It chewed on her flesh until the body was no longer recognizable as Helen's sister.


	6. Chapter 6

Rafe, hidden by the chill of a dark alley, wished he hadn't drunk down his coffee so quickly, more for the warmth the cup would provide than anything else, although extra caffeine would be more than welcome. Wayne had insisted he be out, watching for Helen, by five in the goddamn morning. Rafe was certain he'd heard his brother laughing as he made his way out into the pre-dawn darkness. Not that Wayne had gone back to bed. He was in the van acting as backup with Makoto, but Wayne didn't mind the morning. Unnatural bastard.

Helen didn't make an appearance until a quarter to eight. Tracking her was trickier than Rafe had expected, which suggested Tonya was right that her wolf senses were kicking in. After she'd gone into an antique shop, Rafe waited fifteen minutes. If she were just shopping, she'd most likely be in and out quickly, but if this was her job, she'd have settled in by then and be easier to monitor.

Rafe looked back and forth to be sure the street was empty, before squatting down in front of the shop's display window, and peering into the store from behind the carved legs of some old table. It was difficult to track his subject, but he didn't want to be spotted until he had a firmer grasp of the situation. Of course he'd be terribly conspicuous if anyone walked by, but he was prepared to ramble on about the intricacies of the Queen Anne carvings on the table legs if need be. He hoped that if he did have to distract someone, they'd know as little about antiques as he did; he wasn't even sure there was such a thing as Queen Anne carvings.

Peering in between the table legs, he saw Helen talking to a man. Neither of them was exactly easy to see. The man was facing the back of the store, blocking Rafe's view of Helen. No use trying to talk to her until she was alone. He'd have to wait until the man, most likely the owner, either left or went into the back of the store.

Then the man turned, and Rafe almost gasped. _Nash? How had that old Domuti gotten his claws into Helen so quickly?_ Scrambling until he was out of sight of the window and hoping he hadn't been spotted, Rafe raced to the van to report in.


	7. Chapter 7

At a phone booth next to the basketball court where the cool kids usually hung out, Xander waited for Helen to pick up. That night a bunch of parents had taken over the court. Xander was betting on one of them having a heart attack. His money was on Mr. Price. It couldn't be healthy for anyone's face to be that red.

"Hello?"

"Helen?" Xander asked.

"Yes," she said, sounding wary.

"It's me. I mean, it's Xander. Um, I hate to do this but, um, something kinda came up, and I can't make our date." Cringing, he added, "You aren't too upset with me, are you?"

"Oh. No," she said, but Xander had heard that tone before. He'd messed up big time, or well, really the Hellmouth had messed up for him.

"Look, I'll make it up to you, OK?" As Mr. Linebarger shouted from the sidelines, something about showing them how the game was really played, Xander saw him toss his walker away. "I gotta go," rushed out of his mouth. As he was hanging up the phone, he shouted, "No! Mr. Linebarger, you need that to walk." _Ouch, that's gotta hurt_, he thought as he rushed over to help. The old men on the court just stared. One dribbled the ball, making a monotonous twang... twang... twang as it hit the ground. "You know, you could help," Xander said. None of them moved although some did start looking embarrassed.

"Ooooh, poor little baby fall down, go boom?"

"Hey look, you don't have to make fun–" Xander started as he turned to face the speaker. He registered the extreme bad boy look before he recognized the figure. "Mr. Giles, oh thank God!"

Giles grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close. "That's Ripper, got it?" he growled, shoving Xander to the ground. "Not that I expect a little pisser like you to ever address me again."

"Hey, come on. You said you'd get me coffee." Buffy's mom grabbed Ripper by the arm and started dragging him away.

With a snort, and how did he manage to make that sound cool, Xander wondered, Ripper trailed off with Joyce. "There are better things to drink," Xander heard, as they wandered away.

"OK," Xander said as he raised himself off the ground. "How about we get you to the hospital?" he asked Mr. Linebarger. "Um," he added as he thought through the logistics of carrying a man, whose hip was probably broken, all that way. "I'll just go call an ambulance."

As Xander ran back to the pay phone, he was thinking, _At least I can be sure Helen is human. No way the Hellmouth would have ruined our date if she were a demon._


	8. Chapter 8

Helen put down the phone, angry and hurt that Xander had canceled their date, but also feeling a bit relieved. She'd been having creepy thoughts all day, thoughts of Xander as a wolf, running by her side. It wouldn't be right to curse him like that. She needed someone to watch her back, someone as strong as she was. _Who else but another werewolf is going to help you_, whispered the voice in the back of her mind.

Helen bolted up from the couch as if the sudden movement would settle her thoughts. She paced nervously before grabbing a soda from the fridge. _Control_, she thought. _I just need to control my thoughts. Yeah right. They've never been this wolf-like before, not on a night that wasn't a full moon. This is bad. What if I'm about to turn? Three more days till the full moon, but how do I know for sure it won't happen before then? Not like there's any place I can look it up. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Mom would clean my mouth out with soap if she heard me thinking like that. No worry. She'll never hear anything ever again._ Blindly shoving the soda onto a table, Helen curled up and cried.


	9. Chapter 9

Oz walked to the doorway that led to a set of apartments above the antique shop. Just as he was about to climb the stairs, Mr. Nash came rushing down. "Oz," Mr. Nash almost shouted as he spotted the young man. "Where have you been?"

"Out of town," Oz shrugged. "Heard you were looking for me."

"There's no time to waste," Mr. Nash said stepping towards the door. "There are _Jagers_ are in town."

"Demon hunters?" Oz asked. "Seems like that'd be a good thing."

"Not if they get to her first," Mr. Nash said.

"Her?"

Holding the door open, Mr. Nash stared back at Oz. "If you'd kept in contact like you were supposed to, you'd know this already. There's a werewolf in town, a young woman. We can't let them get to her first."

"Thought _Jagers_ didn't hunt werewolves," Oz asked.

"They don't track controlled werewolves." Mr. Nash didn't notice that Oz winced at the word controlled. "But no _Domuti_ has claimed Helen yet. We'll try her apartment," Mr. Nash added. "God, I hope she's there. I've been waiting on this long enough." His words had a slight accusatory tone that Oz seemed to ignore.

"So you haven't talked to her yet?"

"No. I had been waiting for you, but once I heard about the _Jagers_, I couldn't wait any longer. I was just heading out to find her."


	10. Chapter 10

Worn out from crying, Helen dozed on the couch until she heard the front door open, _She's home early_, Helen thought as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Helen would have boggled to see Kris wearing anything as normal as a pink sweater and jeans, but one of the monsters from the club was standing next to Kris, with an arm around her waist. Walking over with a big grin on his face, he held out his hand and said, "Hi, I'm–" before Kris interrupted him.

"Helen, Rafe. Rafe, Helen." As she cupped the crotch of his pants, Rafe jolted up taller, and, with a smile on his lips, allowed himself to be dragged to Kris's bedroom.

"No," Helen shouted.

Kris gave her a blank stare and, after shoving Rafe into the bedroom, let into Helen. "Look, just because it's not your thing–"

_Shit, what do I tell her?_ "Kris, you don't know this guy," Helen whispered, pulling Kris over. "He could be an, well, like an ax murderer or something."

Kris rolled her eyes. "Oh, grow up." Turning her back on Helen, she made her way to the bedroom, ordering, "You. Naked. Now." Rafe gave Helen a wink before the door closed between them.

Helen bolted for the front door, but stopped just shy of opening it. She couldn't leave Kris alone with a monster. Kris let out a loud moan and murmured something like "Oh baby!" Certain Kris would be furious if she barged into the bedroom, Helen ran out of the apartment, hoping the demon really didn't want anything more than it was getting. As Helen stumbled down the stairs, the walls seemed to be closing in on her, forcing her out into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

"Looks like she's not here," Oz said.

Mr. Nash continued to pound on the door. "She's got to be here," he shouted just as the door opened. Given how often Oz changed his hair color, you'd think Mr. Nash wouldn't even blink at magenta locks; instead he stood there, stammering without actually saying anything, although could have been because the girl was stark naked.

"What?" she shouted. "Can't you see I'm busy?" A blond man peeked out of a back door, saw the girl slam her hands onto her hips, and ducked back out of sight.

"We were looking for Helen," Oz offered.

"Does it look like she's here?"

"Well, to be honest, we can't see much besides your–" Oz started.

"She's gone," the girl replied.

"Gone? She can't be gone," Mr. Nash shouted, thinking the girl meant Helen had left town.

"Happen to know where?" Oz asked.

Her tits jiggled as she shrugged in response. Mr. Nash blushed and took a step back. Oz, used to extreme behavior from the girls Devon preferred, merely asked, "Know where?"

A voice called out from the back room. "Kris."

With a smile, she glanced towards the sound of the voice. "Don't know. Gotta go. Bye." She slammed the door shut.

"Great. Now what do we do?" Mr. Nash grumbled.

"Got an idea," Oz said, heading down the stairs. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Oz sniffed at the air, pointed off to their left, and said, "That way."


	12. Chapter 12

Helen ran, trying to find a place where she could be alone and get her bearings, but the parks were full of grownups acting like teenagers. Groups of old men were standing around everywhere. Women, as old as her mother and older, giggled as they walked past the men. Everywhere she looked, grownups were acting as badly as kids. _No, worse than kids,_ she thought as some guy, old enough to be her father, wolf-whistled at her.

She turned and yelled, ready to lash out at anyone. "You old pervert," she started, but then she heard the squawk from what sounded like a police radio followed by, "Spotted her near corner: Fairmont and Wilmington." As Helen raced off into the night, she could tell, with senses she hadn't had even a month ago, that four– somethings were converging on her. People? Monsters? Did it matter? Some months after she'd been slashed by the werewolf, Helen had noticed that she could run faster than most people. Picking up speed, she left her stalkers behind.

Helen dashed through Cedar Knoll Cemetery, leaping over gravestones as she ran. As Helen spotted the far exit, she looked back to see if she was still being followed. Slowing a bit as she ran through the gates, but with her attention still focused on the cemetery, Helen didn't notice Xander walking along on the sidewalk until they were both a tangle of arms and legs on the ground.

"Helen," he said, smiling, as if he got knocked over so often he didn't even notice it.

As they stood up, she saw that his knuckles were bloody. "I didn't do that, did I?" she asked tentatively.

"Nah," he replied, wiping off the blood. More welled up from the cut. "Some old geezer hit me with his cane as I was helping him to the hospital."

A twig snapped somewhere behind them in the cemetery. Helen jerked her head around but saw nothing. _Something is there, someplace, trying to find me_, Helen thought. She stared at the blood. Her grandmother had told her to be careful. The smallest bit of her saliva could curse another if it made it's way into his bloodstream. _Then I'd have someone to watch my back_.

"Hey, Helen," Xander said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "You OK?" When she looked up, he had a wary look in his eyes. Helen froze, uncertain what to say. "Here, hold this a second," he added, pulling something out of his back pocket and handing it over.

Helen looked at it and wondered why he'd handed her a cross; he didn't seem to be that religious. Xander took it back and pocketed it without offering an explanation. "You really shouldn't zone out on blood like that. It might give someone the wrong impression."

Helen hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms, curling them around herself. She glanced at Xander and then down to the ground. In the distance, Helen heard one of the monsters from the Bronze, the one that Xander called friend, and that was what decided her. There was too much going on. She needed someone. Once Xander was a werewolf, he'd have to help. He'd have the same problems she had. "Here," she said, taking Xander's hand in hers. "Let me kiss it better."

"Mom," the monster wailed. "Giles. Stop kissing."

"S'not Giles," someone responded.

"Fine. Ripper, back away from my mother."

The words tugged out a memory of her parents kissing on the couch while she and Tracey made faces. Looking at Xander, Helen could tell by his open expression that he trusted her. She shoved him to the ground. "Stay away from me," she shouted.

"Helen, what?" he asked as he pulled himself back up.

"No. Get back. Don't– don't trust me like that."

"You really shouldn't trust her." Five people, all dressed in combat black, stepped out from behind trees and gravestones. Each one had a gun aimed at either Helen or Xander.

Xander stepped between Helen and the guns. "I don't know what's up with you people and guns," Xander told the newcomers, "but they're not really the weapon of choice in Sunnydale."

_Oh my God_, Helen thought. _He just did that for me, and I almost bit him?_

"All we want is the girl," the woman said. "You can walk away from this. In fact, I'd recommend it."

"Not going to happen." Helen hadn't known that Xander could sound so determined.

"Xander?" a voice called out, as Buffy stepped into view. Seeing the guns, she added, "Hey! Who the hell are you?"

A woman, wearing a dark jacket with feathers along the edges said, "Her Mom is so going to wash her mouth out with soap."

The man who was holding onto her hand and looked like James Dean in those old movies her Mom used to love, replied, "Thought you _were_ her mother."

"Oh yeah," the woman giggled.

The man seemed to recognize the people with the guns right off. "Ooooh," he mocked. "Look at the tough little _Jagers_ out hunting monsters. We've already taken out the demon, so sod off and go home."

Ignoring him, a man who looked Asian but sounded American, said, "Slayer." While Helen didn't know what he meant, Buffy seemed to make sense of it.

"So you know who I am," Buffy said. "I still want to know why you're aiming guns at my friends."

"They aren't hunting demons." Mr. Nash, panting as though he'd been running for his life, stopped clutching a stitch in his side. Next to him– Helen took a few steps back from the shock of it: a werewolf. Helen didn't know how she knew, but she was certain.

"What's up?" he asked calmly.

"Giles," Buffy asked, "Who or what are they?"

"Ripper," he corrected, rolling his eyes.

Grabbing him by the collar, she replied, "Your name is going to be mud it you don't give me some answers now."

As she released her hand, he pushed away and combed his hair back, but the dark-haired woman spoke up before he could reply. "We're called _Jagers_. Because the Slayer can't be everywhere, an order of knights was created whose sole purpose is to destroy _kakodaimons_."

"Kak what?" Buffy asked.

"It's a Greek term meaning evil demons," Ripper supplied.

"Wait, I thought all demons were evil," Joyce said.

"You're knights?" Xander asked.

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "More of a military unit now, but the history is there."

"How about some names?" Buffy said.

The dark-haired woman, who was apparently the leader of the group, nodded and a man, whose hair was the same sandy blond as Rafe's, although his build was slighter, stepped forward. "Sergeant Caterina Ramon, our squad leader and demolitions expert," he finished.

Xander blinked and mouthed, "demolition?"

"Makoto Meyers is our sorcerer and medic," he added. The Asian man gave them a nod of the head so formal it was almost a bow.

"Robert Savitch, our pilot and vehicle expert." A dark-haired beanpole of a man tipped an imaginary hat at the group.

"And I'm Wayne Cadwell, second-in-command," he finished.

"Rogue demon hunters," Angel said, stepping out of the shadows. At Buffy's quizzical look, he added, "I saw your car window getting smashed at the hospital. Thought I'd follow to see you safely home." Nodding towards the _Jagers_, he finished, "Glad I did."

"Be careful whom you call rogue, vampire," Sergeant Ramon said. Then, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to stave off a headache, she told the _Jagers_ to lower their weapons.

"Sergeant? I don't think that's such a good idea," Wayne said. "I don't care if she is the Slayer. They're working with a _Domuti_ and a vampire."

"That's not enough to keep us on full alert," Sergeant Ramon said, putting away her gun. "You know _Domuti_ aren't the enemy, and the vampire does seem to be a friendly. We're here to recruit, not hunt." The other _Jagers_ put away their guns as well although Makoto and Wayne took more time about it.

"Recruit?" Xander asked with a start. "Me? I mean I've got the soldier memories and all, but why–"

"Not you," Mr. Nash said, stepping forward as he interrupted Xander. He pointed to Helen.

Xander shook his head. "Helen? But–"

"She's a werewolf," Oz said, laying a comforting hand on Xander's shoulder.

"Werewolf?" Xander shouted with a start.

"There wolf," Helen said, pointing towards her own chest.

"Wait. What?" Joyce asked. Ripper, taking advantage of Buffy's distraction, put an arm around Joyce's waist and whispered in her ear, presumably explaining the situation to her.

As a couple of old geezers ran past in the street, trailing toilet paper behind them and shouting at the top of their lungs, Buffy said, "How about we take this someplace private?"

"Or maybe we could find out what happened to Rafe first," Wayne countered.

"Oh my God. I left that demon with my roommate," Helen shouted.

"Demon?" Buffy asked. "What demon?"

"I," Helen started. Buffy started tapping her foot against the sidewalk. The unexpected sound grounded Helen. "The one from the bar the other night. He's back at my apartment with Kris. I should, oh God, I should have bashed its head in with a frying pan or something. Who knows what it's done to her."

"Hey," Wayne said, storming up to Helen. "That's my brother. I'm the only one who gets to bash his skull in."

"Brother?" Buffy asked. "I thought he was a demon."

"Well you see," Ripper started up.

"Quiet," Sergeant Ramon shouted. Everyone shut up and looked at her. "Rafe was sent to recruit you. He should have followed you out of the apartment," she said, almost sounding like she was accusing Helen.

"They're in her bedroom," Helen said.

"That does sound like our Raphael," a Southern accent drawled out. When Helen looked over, Robert shrugged.

"Call him up," Sergeant Ramon told Wayne. "Tell him to meet us," she stopped and turned to Buffy. "Where do you suggest we go?"

"My shop has space in the back," Mr. Nash offered.

"No," was all Sergeant Ramon said, but it was enough.

"My digs are a couple of blocks away," Ripper offered. "I'm sure you know the way," he said.

Sergeant Ramon nodded and turned to Wayne. "Tell him if he doesn't want to be cleaning toilets for a month, he'd better beat us there."

"Mom. Giles. Behave," Buffy said, dragging her mother off of Ripper and gesturing for him to lead the way. While Sergeant Ramon and Wayne stayed with the group, the other _Jagers_ disappeared into the shadows. At a nod from Buffy, Angel vanished as well.

Xander strolled along next to Helen. "Can everyone you know do that?" she asked him.

"What, vanish like that? Nah. Angel can because he's a vampire," Xander replied.

"Vampires. Monsters."

"And werewolves, oh my!" Xander said jokingly.

Buffy, still holding onto Joyce, joined them. "Hey," she asked Helen. "Are you OK?"

"Of course," Helen said.

Scrounging through her purse, Joyce came up with a piece of gum. "Here, you look like you could use this."

"Um, thanks," Helen said.

"You don't look OK," Buffy said bluntly.

"It's been a difficult week," Helen shrugged, trying to make light of it. She didn't want to break down and cry in front of so many strangers.

"Don't worry," Buffy said. "Nobody's taking anyone anywhere against their will."

"Good to hear," Oz said as he joined them.

"Huh?" Xander asked.

Oz shrugged. "They're after werewolves."

"And you're not interested in being recruited against your will. Can't blame you," Xander said. "When I was in the army, they had us doing push-ups from–"

Wayne, putting away his cell phone, turned to the group and said, "That's not how we operate."

Oz glanced over at Mr. Nash, who was walking at front with Ripper, and Wayne bristled. "Don't believe everything that old _Domuti_ tells you."

"Caldwell," Sergeant Ramon barked.

"Sorry, ma'am," he replied.

"What was that about?" Xander asked.

"Well," Joyce started. She blew a bubble with her gum and then continued. "That Wayne guy was being really nasty about Mr. Nash. That Ramon lady probably wants, you know, to make a good impression if she wants to recruit Helen for whatever it is, and Wayne there isn't helping."

Oz shrugged. "Makes sense."

Helen tried not to stare. The woman did have a point, but why did she sound like an aggrieved teenager? Helen lowered her face and didn't look up from the stairs; they must be getting close to Ripper's apartment and to whatever confrontation was going to happen there. When they stopped she glanced up to see Rafe waiting near a door. He nodded as he caught her eyes. Helen hid behind Xander.


	13. Chapter 13

Sergeant Ramon looked over to Helen and then barked out, "Raphael Caldwell."

"Ma'am," he said, standing up straighter.

"These three," she said to Helen as she pointed out Buffy, Angel, and Oz, "must register as demons to you. Based on what I saw during the walk over here, you aren't afraid of them, but you're terrified of Rafe?"

Helen's thoughts flashed back to that night in the club. He'd threatened her. He'd definitely threatened her, and he'd known she was a werewolf, although apparently that wasn't as much of a secret as she'd thought.

Rafe hung his head, as if he were trying to look sheepish. "You used the snack line on her?" Sergeant Ramon belted out.

As Rafe hung his head even lower, Angel growled, "Snack?"

Sergeant Ramon turned towards Helen. "I apologize for this idiot, Miss Ash." Helen shrank behind Xander again as she wondered how the woman knew her last name.

Rafe's eyes flashed as he said, "I could tell she'd recognized me as a demon. I thought a joke would help ease the tension."

"Dude, you have the most unfortunate sense of humor," Robert said. A quick glare from Sergeant Ramon shut him up.

"It's not funny to someone who doesn't know you're a _eudaimon_," Wayne added.

"A U-demon?" Xander asked. "It that like a U-turn, a demon going back the way it came, because I think we'd all be very happy to see the last of–"

"Oh, give it a break," Ripper said, rolling his eyes.

"It's from the Greek," Angel said. "Combining _eu_, which means good or well, as in euphoric, and _daimon_, which means guardian spirit. A _eudaimon_ is basically a benevolent demon."

"A demon who wears a white hat," Oz added.

"Hold on, I know Angel's a good guy, but I thought he was an exception to the rule. Now I'm finding out all demons aren't evil?" Buffy pointedly asked Giles.

"Don't look at me," Ripper replied. "I never wanted any of this Watcher nonsense."

"Right, how could I have forgotten you aren't Giles," Buffy said.

"Watchers' Council doesn't like the Slayer to have that kind of info. Might leave them uncertain at a crucial moment," Rafe said.

"Demon lad does have a point," Ripper added, unlocking the door.

"And you think I can trust him?" Buffy asked.

As they piled into Giles' apartment, Ripper shrugged. "As much as you can trust anyone. He's obviously part dra'katha demon, but they're no more violent than your average human."

As Mr. Nash settled himself on the largest chair in the room. "Now see here," he said. "If you're suggesting that Helen and Oz can trust the _Jagers_... My people have been helping werewolves for centuries, while these," he waved his hand around vaguely, "children are merely playing around, pretending they have some sort of a cure."

Oz, leaning against the back wall by the record player, shifted forward. "Cure?"

"Now look here, you old tosser," Ripper said, looming over Mr. Nash.

"Stop it, both of you," Buffy shouted. As Mr. Nash settled back into the chair, Ripper joined Joyce by the kitchen counter.

"I'd sorta like to hear about that cure," Oz added. Mr. Nash's mouth settled into a thin, grim line.

"It's not so much a cure as a means of self-control: meditation, herbs, things like that," Makoto said.

Sergeant Ramon was staring at Helen. "But first, there's one more member of the team you need to meet." Speaking into what looked like a wristwatch, she said, "T? You can come in now."

"All our cards out in the open," Rafe said, giving Mr. Nash a significant look.

Buffy tensed, as if about to be attacked when the door started to open, but Helen was the one who felt as though she'd been sucker punched when she saw who it was. "Tonya?" Helen asked, rising from her chair.

"Hey," Tonya said apologetically. "How've you been?"

Helen stepped back with a look of fury. "I thought you were my friend," she said through clenched teeth.

Looking abashed, Tonya stepped back. "Can't I be both? Yeah, sure, I originally looked you up because we knew you'd been infected by that werewolf, but I am your friend." As she finished, Tonya held an arm out towards Helen.

"How'd you find me?" Helen asked.

Tonya glanced at Sergeant Ramon who nodded. "Mr. Boo Boo. Inside him, there's a tracking device."

Buffy asked, "Mr. Boo Boo?" as Helen tore her keys off the chain and angrily threw the leopard-print snake at Tonya, who caught it easily.

"I know your upset," Wayne said, "but think it through. We had a rogue werewolf out there with who knows what kind of control during the full moon. Your situation wasn't stable, with only your grandmother to keep an eye on you."

"Grandma was trying to contact someone in the old country," Helen said.

"And if she'd gotten through to the _Domuti_, we never would have made ourselves known," Sergeant Ramon said. "But Social Services found you locked in a cage."

"I'm a werewolf," Helen said, as if to apologize for her grandmother's actions.

"Only three nights out of the month," Tonya said angrily. "She put you in that cage as soon as you got home from school. Admit it! You never wanted to go home."

Helen heard Xander and his friends gasp at the accusation and hung her head, feeling guilty for her grandmother's actions. She hadn't liked the way her grandmother had treated her, but in the terrible mourning for her family, it hadn't seemed worth fighting over.

"Wait a min," Buffy said. "You turned Helen in to Social Services?"

Sergeant Ramon answered. "No, that was an accident. Some kids were playing hide-and-seek near the basement windows and saw Helen in the cage."

"So," Buffy said slowly, as if working something out, "Helen's grandmother was having trouble contacting the Doumui, but you knew Mr. Nash was here in Sunnydale. Why didn't you contact him yourself?"

"Because they use werewolves as cannon fodder," Mr. Nash sneered.

"Well that's a bit over the top," Ripper said. "That's like saying the army just tosses young men into the field to get killed. Wait a minute, I agree with that last bit."

"You'd be in the same position I am," Rafe said. "Demonic attributes, enhanced senses and abilities, are useful in our line of work.

"So, you want to turn me into some sort of military mutt," Helen said, "and you," she added, turning to Mr. Nash. "What is it you want from me?"

"The _Domuti_ are shamans, you see," Ripper explained. "They control werewolves. You'd still shape-shift, but you wouldn't kill anyone."

"What's it like?" Helen asked Oz.

"What's it like to not become a crazed killer?" Buffy asked.

"No," Helen corrected, ignoring the implied criticism. "What does this control feel like?"

"Don't know," Oz shrugged.

As Helen looked at Oz suspiciously, Mr. Nash said, "Oz hasn't been a werewolf long enough to recall his transformations, but I won't lie to you. Based on what I've heard from our charges, it's not comfortable, but the relief of knowing you won't have to worry about killing–"

"You don't have to turn," Rafe interrupted.

"How's that work?" Oz asked, causing Mr. Nash to frown.

Wayne replied. "Carol Fuss, a werewolf who didn't appreciate being bound to the _Domuti_, traveled the world to study with anyone who would teach her to control the wolf: Tibetan monks, shamans in both Africa and South America, even with a monastery of _eudaemons_ in Siberia."

"Still love to know how she swung that one," Rafe exclaimed. "They do not take to outsiders."

"Carol could be quite persuasive when she had a mind to be," Sergeant Ramon added. "Her family had been _Jagers_ for generations. She brought the techniques to us, so that we could get other werewolves out from under _Domuti_ dominion."

"Just a minute," Mr. Nash said, jumping out of his chair. "Ours is a sacred duty. You make it sound like we enslave our charges, but we give them peace of mind. They know they haven't killed while under our control."

"Wouldn't mind controlling myself," Oz said.

"Ha," Ripper laughed. "Looks like you've got a choice. Lucky girl."

"It seems like each of you has a choice," Joyce said, looking to both Helen and Oz.

"Huh," Oz stated.

"What about my grandmother?" Helen asked. "She was only trying to help me. I don't want her spending the rest of her life in jail."

"It'd be possible to get her out," Sergeant Ramon said. "Some of the wealthier _Jager_ families have separate homes on their estates. We could get her set up in one."

"Even if you don't decide to join us, I'll personally make sure your grandma gets set up someplace," Tonya told Helen.

"On whose authority?" Sergeant Ramon barked.

Tonya leveled her gaze at the sergeant. "My own." Their eyes flashed in silent battle until Sergeant Ramon gave in with a nod.

Seeing the look on Oz's face, Buffy asked, "What if someone wanted the training, but wasn't interested in wearing camouflage?"

"The training is still in development. We'd want you where we could keep an eye on you," Sergeant Ramon replied.

"So, no joinee, no trainee," Xander summed up.

"We could research it ourselves, right Giles?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, if we wanted to read dull as ditch-water books," Ripper joked. Catching Buffy glaring at him, he added, "Which is what we do."

"If you did train me, I'd share it with anyone who wanted it," Helen stated.

"That's not recommended," Sergeant Ramon replied.

"But it's also not an unusual response," Tonya added. "My aunt is pushing for a structured reach-out training program for werewolves who don't join. Given that our trainees are sharing this info, we're better off knowing who has what training so we can judge how effective it is." Both Mr. Nash and Sergeant Ramon glared at Tonya who was so focused on Helen that she didn't even seem to notice their attention.

_Grandma kept me in a cage_, Helen thought. _Mr. Nash, however good his intentions, would just keep me in a larger cage._ She thought of the past few weeks, living on the run and worrying about what would happen at the next full moon. _If I can't control the change, that'll always be a concern. Am I going to be somebody's responsibility for the rest of my life? If I get the training, I'll never have to worry about destroying a family like somebody destroyed mine._

She looked at Xander. While she did like him, they hadn't had much of a chance to get to know each other. Helen's gaze shifted over to Tonya, who remained silent, but whose eyes spoke of her concern. _She really is my friend, even if it wasn't chance that brought us together._ "OK," she told Tonya. "I'll go with you."

"No," Mr. Nash shouted.

Buffy grabbed his arm. "I think it's for the best."

Helen turned to her employer. "Mr. Nash?" He wouldn't even look at her. Helen didn't know what to say. He'd apparently tried to help her, even though he hadn't been all that good at letting her know help was available. Still, she didn't want things to be bad between them, but she could see he didn't want to hear anything she had to say.

Xander's eyes were wide as he stared at Helen. She reached out to him, but then let her hand drop. "I'm sorry I can't stay."

"Yeah," he said.

Helen took in a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. "And I'm sorry I almost infected you with the werewolf curse. I was sort of freaked."

Xander's face paled. _Damn, he hadn't picked up on that._ "You what?" Buffy shouted.

"Hey," Xander said, stepping between them. "It's OK." As Buffy glared at Helen he added, "Really." Turning to Helen he said, "No problem, most of my girlfriends try to kill me, so this? Actually an improvement."

Helen couldn't even raise her eyes from the ground. Xander tucked a hand under her chin and lifted her face up until they were looking at each other. "Hey," he said, "You stopped yourself. Here I am, totally werewolf virus or germ or whatever free, and it's because you chose not to."

Helen gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Come on," Tonya said, laying a comforting hand on Helen's shoulder. "I'll buy you a blue slushy on the way out of town."

"One more thing," Helen said, almost reluctantly, knowing Mr. Nash wouldn't approve. "Phone number?" she asked Oz. "So we can share training and research? I don't know where I'll be–"

While Oz wrote down his phone number, Tonya turned to Buffy and said, "Mr. Giles will know how to contact the _Jagers_. Since he seems to be, um, a bit out of it this evening, tell him she'll be at our Arizona training center." She gestured towards Ripper who was busy kissing Joyce.

"Mom! Giles!" Buffy shouted as she rushed over to drag them apart.

Just as they'd reached the door, Xander called out, "Helen." When she turned he said, with a shrug, "Good luck."

"You too," she said, finally feeling that everything would be OK.


End file.
